A Different Kind of String
by deepfriedcake
Summary: There's a big difference between the strings that guide a marionette and those that guide your heart. Lorelai finds out the difference in a continued version of "Those Are Strings, Pinnochio."


**Notes:** Sorry, guys, it's another one-shot. This one has been languishing on my flashdrive forever, and suddenly I couldn't get it out of my head...so here it is, finally finished. Obviously it takes place during "Those Are Strings, Pinnochio," and I may have taken a few small liberties with the actual transcript of the episode. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **A Different Kind of String**

I spied a hot guy standing next to my TV, talking to Babette. At least, his backside – the only part I could see – was pretty smoking hot. His broad shoulders were filling out the blue material of his shirt very nicely. Black dress pants were clinging everywhere they needed to cling.

I made a beeline over to them, already hearing the future narrative in my head. Someday I'd tell a tale about how this handsome stranger had magically appeared at my daughter's high school graduation party and how it had turned into love at first sight for us.

" _Fate,"_ I'd say dreamily, with my hands clasped over my heart.

I was already giggling from those ridiculous thoughts when the 'stranger' turned his head slightly, giving me a glimpse of his profile. I laughed harder. After all the years I'd watched that backside walk away after pouring my coffee, I should have known it was his.

" _Luke!"_ It was all too funny. I crashed my shoulder against his side, unable to get my giggles to stop. He staggered slightly, regained his balance, and then gave me one of those looks that suggested I'd been dropped off at the wrong planet.

"You OK, Doll?" Babette asked, her eyebrows arching, probably speculating about how much celebrating I'd been doing already, I suppose.

"I'm fine," I said, still giggling. I turned to give Luke a gentle punch to his arm. "I thought you weren't coming."

He shrugged and looked off into the dusty depths of the fireplace. "Nothing going on at the diner. Thought I'd come over so I could see you guys one more time before you leave."

"Aww." I took his arm and then snuggled against him, playing it to the hilt. "You really are an old softy today, aren't you?" I winked at Babette. "Did you hear about how Rory's speech brought this tough guy to his knees during the ceremony?"

"Stop," Luke said halfheartedly, already resigned to being eternally teased about his emotional reaction to Rory's heartfelt words.

"I think everyone's entitled to be an old softy today," Babette declared. She bulldozed her way between us and somehow managed to hug both of us as she went. "I'm gonna go find Rory and give her another squeeze myself. God, I'm gonna miss that girl!"

"She's coming back!" I called after her, surprised at how forlorn the words sounded after they left my mouth. Embarrassed, I smiled guiltily at Luke, hoping he hadn't picked up on that.

He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, looking at me appraisingly. " _Are_ you OK?" he asked pointedly.

I bristled slightly, not liking his patronizing tone. "Do you mean am I drunk? Or are you talking about Rory going off to college?"

Those dark blue eyes swept over me again. "Both, I think."

"I'm not drunk." I raised my arms; let them float in the air. "I'm feeling…mellow. Not drunk."

"Yeah?" He didn't look convinced. "How many have you had?"

"Now that's an interesting question. Are you asking me how many bottles I've had in my hand or how much I've actually had to drink?"

He began to look amused, the way he did sometimes when he was having a good time in spite of himself. "There's a difference?"

"Oh, there certainly is, my friend!" I warmed to my explanation. "I've probably taken possession of at least seven bottles, but after a gulp or two I've gotten called away to deal with some sort of hostess-y situation, which forced me to put said bottle down. Of course, I can never locate that bottle again, which means I go and get another one, only to have the same pattern repeat." I grinned at him. "So if you add up all of the sips, gulps, and/or guzzles I've had tonight, the total amount of alcohol consumed most likely only adds up to one bottle, if that."

He didn't fault my logic, but he did cross his arms over his chest and gave me that stern, looking-down-his-nose gaze, which usually means he's not buying my crap.

I blew out an impatient breath. "Here. Watch." I closed my eyes and took turns bringing my index fingers to my nose. "Will that convince you, Officer? Or do you want me to walk a straight line, too?"

"You're good," he said, swiftly grabbing my hands to stop the display. He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Besides, it's your party. Do what you want."

I looked around at the packed room. "Actually, it's Rory's party." The smile I gave him felt sad, for some reason. "But it's at my house, so I guess it's the same difference."

He nodded, looking down at the space between our feet for a second. "How are you about the other thing?" He brought his head up and met my eyes. "The Rory thing?"

"That…" I was _not_ going to give voice to any of those feelings. " _That_ I don't have to think about until after the summer," I stated.

I could tell he thought that was total B.S., but he let it drop. "OK," he said mildly.

Suddenly it got awkward between us, fast. There were a ton of people in the room, music was playing, there were snacks everywhere you looked, but he made no move to use any of those typical party diversions to step away. I looked around, but nothing was calling me away, either.

"You know what's wrong with this picture?" I asked him, probably too loudly. "Neither of us has a drink!" I grabbed one of his hands and began to lead him towards the kitchen. "Let's rectify that, what do you say?"

I fully expected him to pull his hand away or say he didn't want a drink, but instead he let me hold his hand all the way across the living room, dodging the usual assortment of Stars Hollow revelers.

Just as we reached the doorway, Sookie came through with a platter filled with canapés fresh from the oven. I stopped abruptly to keep from running into her, and Luke crashed into my back. He put one of his hands on my arm, the other on my hip, to steady me. A shiver ran through me, as if I'd touched the toaster after dragging my feet across the floor in the wintertime.

"Sorry." I giggled an apology, looking back at him from over my shoulder. The weird electrical current thing I just ignored. You know, the way I usually did.

"No problem." He removed his hands and shrugged. "Nobody wants to wear stuffed mushrooms."

"Very true. Stuffed mushrooms are _so_ last year." We entered the kitchen and both of us reached for one of the beers bobbing in the designated 'adult beverage' tub.

"Although you've changed out of your dress-up clothes so it wouldn't have been as big of a disaster," he pointed out.

I looked down at my shirt and jeans. "I did. Got into my party clothes."

He twisted off the cap and threw it into the wastebasket. "Too bad," I thought I heard him say.

I tilted my head, running through all of the possible meanings of those words. "You liked the dress?" I asked when he turned to face me again.

His eyes opened a little wider, as if he'd been caught at something illicit. "Um, yeah, uh…it was…nice. It was…red."

"It was," I agreed, thoroughly enjoying the corner he'd backed himself into.

"And I never would have thought that red was your color, but, uh…" He began to nod madly while looking around for a way out. "It suited you, somehow."

My eyebrows rose at the rare Luke compliment. "Thanks, Luke. That means a lot, coming from a fashionista like you."

"Yeah, well…" He took a desperate pull from the bottle of beer, giving up on any further repartee.

"Come on," I said, taking pity on him. We went back into the living room, where Hep Alien was launching into their first set.

"Wanna dance?" I yelled, because man, were they loud in my little living room. Luke looked confused, probably because he couldn't hear me, so, with a laugh, I did a little shimmy and then wound my arms around his neck, swaying slightly.

It surprised me when his arms willingly circled my waist. I wasn't expecting that. The coldness from his bottle of beer seeped into the small of my back, and I blamed the extreme change of temperature on the second shiver that coursed through my body.

After a brief interlude of mutual swaying, Luke shook his head and backed away, with sort of a bashful smile and a shrug, which was the reaction I'd expected to begin with. Then he just stood there, looking ill at ease, picking at the label on the bottle.

Since I'd also changed my shoes, from high heels to slip-on sandals, I needed to go up on my tiptoes to speak into his ear. "You all right?"

At first he just gave me a blank look, but then he sighed. Shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

He looked conflicted, but after a slight hesitation, he put his mouth close to my ear. "Sometimes I wish I smoked."

My jaw dropped. " _You?"_ Shock made my voice loud enough to be heard over the music.

He leaned close again. "That way, I'd have a perfect reason to go outside for a while, step away, figure out how to –" He stopped and immediately pulled back, looking as if he'd already said way too much.

Occasionally I can look at him and glean what he isn't saying. This was one of those times.

"Luke, did you want to talk to me about something?"

He nodded, and after a moment's reflection, I nodded too. "Well, come on," I said, and started walking over to the stairs, with him following.

"Lorelai, wait." His chin jerked upwards. "You have no problem with this?"

"With what?" I was already a few stairs ahead of him, and he hurried to catch up.

"Parading me upstairs to your bedroom, with half the town watching." I caught his sardonic tone.

"First, it's the only place I can think of that might actually be quiet enough for us to hear each other, and secondly, it's not a problem because, you know, you're not really a guy."

"What the hell do you mean by –"

By then I'd opened the door to my room and flipped on the light, and the sheer volume of mess inside of it apparently broke his chain of thought. He stepped inside with no further complaint. "What the hell happened in here?" he wanted to know instead, slowly turning around to take in the full glory of the disarray.

"I'm leaving for Europe tomorrow." I closed the door, shutting out more of the noise from downstairs.

"I'm aware of that." He pointed at the mounds of clothing and shoes residing on my bed. "Are you seriously taking all of that?"

"Of course not. We're backpacking."

"Then _what_ –" He was reduced to pointing, his words failing.

"I'm still going through a vetting process, trying to decide which clothing options are worthy of the trip."

"Dear God." He rubbed his fingertips over his forehead.

"Don't worry. One way or another I'll have it all figured out by 6 AM tomorrow," I said cheerfully.

"Oh, _I'm_ not worried," he said caustically, but then he eyed my shoulders with what _looked_ like worry.

"Here. Have a seat." I shoved skirts and jeans to one side, clearing a small spot.

He almost sat before his first 'what the hell' statement came back to him. "What did you mean, I'm not a guy?"

"Not to me, you're not." I sat on the floor beside the bed, cross-legged. "That's how we work this, right?"

"What are you talking about?" he complained, gingerly sitting down on the bed.

"You and me. I pretend you're not a guy; you pretend I'm not a girl. That's how we're able to be friends and ignore the whole pesky sex thing, right?"

"Is that what we do?" he asked, his jaw clenched tight.

"Yeah, I think so, don't we?" I nodded, settling in to the conversation and trying to get comfortable on the carpet. "It's like Lord Voldemort, sort of."

"Who?"

"Lord Voldemort. Harry Potter?" He still looked blank. "Good grief, Luke, how hard do you have to work at it to be so incredibly unaware?"

"Go on," he said calmly, although I could tell that internally he was continuing to seethe.

"Harry is a wizard, and Lord Voldemort is an evil wizard. Like the worst, most evil villain ever. He's so evil that people are too scared to say his name, so they call him 'he who must not be named.'" I nodded seriously at Luke. "And that's how we bypass the gender issue between us. We don't even give it a name."

He glared at me. "If you say so."

"I do." I shrugged and then smiled at him. "OK, big talk time now. Go!"

His face lost all expression and seemed to pale. I could tell he was floundering for a way to get started.

"Does it have something more to do with what we were talking about at the graduation?" I asked intuitively, trying to help him out.

"In a way, I guess." He tipped the bottle to his lips and took a long pull. Even after the shot of liquid courage, he was hesitant to begin. "Do you remember the night you spent with me?" he finally asked.

My eyes widened. "Well, weird way to characterize that night, but yeah, sure. Of course I remember it. The Inn burned down."

He nodded, not responding to my dig. "That night, you told me about a dream you'd had."

 _Crap._ The twins. I'd hoped that was something he hadn't committed to memory. "Uh, yeah. I remember," I replied, trying not to wince.

"I got the feeling that if you would have taken the time to think about it more, you probably wouldn't have told me, right?"

I saluted him with my beer. "Luke Danes, you know me well," I praised him. "Definitely one of those times when my mouth engaged before my brain did."

He took a deep breath. "So I'm going to do the same thing. I'm just going to say it without thinking," he decreed, although he looked to be in agony. "I had a dream, too."

"About twins?" I teased.

"No," he said, gritting his teeth.

"About me?" I asked, remaining doggedly flippant.

He nodded, and I felt dread drench me. "Was I naked?" I asked, pushing on with my trademarked brand of brashness, even though my preference would have been to hide underneath the bed.

"No. You had on the red lacey dress."

I took a slow sip of my beer, stalling for time, trying to decide how best to play this. "So this was a recent dream, then."

"Just a few hours ago." His eyes were darting around, but every now and then they'd light on me, trying to judge how I was reacting. "Like I said, the diner was slow, and I guess I dozed off. And…you were there. In the dream, I mean. You just looked at me, not talking."

"I wasn't talking? Definitely a dream then."

He looked vexed that I'd interrupted. "Anyway, I kept asking you what was going on. Finally you said, 'Don't get engaged,' and you walked out of the diner without another word. I called after you, but that was the end of it, and then I woke up."

I took my time before speaking, partly to get my thoughts in order, partly to try and calm my heart rate down. " _Are_ you thinking about getting engaged?" I asked, dismay shrouding my words.

Luke snorted. "Absolutely not."

My eyes shot up to him. "Does Nicole think you're getting engaged?"

"I have no idea," he muttered.

"You guys haven't talked about it at all?"

That earned me a brief, although vehement, headshake.

"OK," I sighed. "Luke, I still just think that this is another version of cold feet." Oddly, although I knew what I needed to say next – it was not my first time being a part of this sort of a conversation – I was having a terrible time getting the expected words to come out of my mouth. "You know, if nothing else, being on the cruise together would be a great time to discuss all of this stuff. You could talk about the future; about whether or not it's going to be together. It might be exactly what your relationship needs."

His mouth curled up on one side in what looked like distaste. "This trip just seems like such a big thing. It feels like we take this trip, then it's automatically on to the next step."

"Do you not want to take the next step, whatever it is?" I was getting increasingly irritated, and I wasn't sure why. "So what's the deal, Luke? Are you just stringing her along?"

"What's the deal with you?" he asked, sounding just as irritated. "Why are you pushing this? You don't even _like_ Nicole!"

"That's not true," I said patronizingly. "I like Nicole fine. I just think that's she not the right –"

That's as far as I got before I was clobbered by a bolt from the blue. Struck by lightning. Eviscerated by an epiphany. Do you know what no one ever mentions about those sort of blinding insights? They _hurt_. I mean physically, and a lot. Cross the worst brain freeze ever with a cop shining one of those million kilowatt flashlights in your eyes.

I scrambled instinctively to my feet, trying to get away from the brain pain.

"You all right?" Luke, alarmed by whatever was going on with me, got to his feet too. I couldn't answer but I must have been shaking, because he reached out and took the bottle of beer away from me. "Lorelai?"

Suddenly it seemed very important to move away from him. I started to back up, but after a few feet I hit the dresser on the far wall. Stunned, I let my backside slide down the face of it until I was once again sitting on the floor.

Luke followed. He put both of the beers on top of the dresser, then knelt beside me. "What's wrong? Lorelai? Can you hear me?"

I was able to turn my head and look at him, and it was the concern I saw in those killer blue eyes of his that snapped me out of my paralysis.

"You're right," I gasped. "I don't like Nicole." Uncontrollable laughter began to peal out of me. "I don't like Nicole at all!"

"OK," Luke said curtly.

Babbling took over. "It all makes so much sense now. All of those times when I sat in the diner and fantasized about her skinny lawyer fingers clutching the coffee mug so tightly that it would shatter, and the ceramic shards would pierce her neck, cutting her carotid artery, her blood gushing out all over the counter –"

"Hey!" Luke said sharply.

I drew a much-needed breath. "But now it makes so much sense."

"What does?"

"You're a guy, Luke. And here I truly thought I'd done such a good job of ignoring that."

"Gee, thanks. I'm glad we cleared that up," he said sarcastically. "But what has that got to do with anything?"

I pulled up my knees and hid my face against them. "Luke, are you seriously going to make me say this?"

"Since I have no earthly idea what you're trying to say, you bet I am!" he snapped.

I groaned. "OK. Well, it seems like not only are you a guy, but I…I guess I feel territorial about that. In fact, it seems like I think that you are…" It took every bit of strength I could find to force out the last two words. "…my guy."

He blinked a couple of times, letting my admission settle inside him. Slowly he changed his position on the floor, from kneeling before me in concern to sitting companionably beside me, his back also resting against the dresser. "Oh," he finally said.

"Yeah." I couldn't look at him.

There was an unnervingly long spell of silence.

"You know," Luke finally said, "the next time Rory's dad shows up, you could tell him that it's a miracle he's still able to walk around."

"Christopher? What do you mean?"

He nodded, looking at a spot somewhere across the room. "Every time I see him, I want to pound him to a pulp."

My mouth dropped open. "Luke!"

"And the teacher? Man, I _really_ hated the teacher."

I had a sudden clear vision of Luke emptying ketchup bottles instead of joining us out on the square. "Um, yeah. I guess I picked up on that."

He inclined his head towards me. "And whoever the guy was who took you fishing? If he knows what's good for him, he'll never show up in town."

"No danger of that," I assured him. "He's long gone." I went further down memory lane myself. "You know, I really did like Rachel."

"Yeah. I know."

"But at the same time, I wanted her out of here so badly. It drove me nuts, seeing you with her."

He shifted his position slightly, so he could look at me. "Yeah," he said softly.

"I guess we feel like we already have a claim on each other," I theorized.

"But we don't," Luke pointed out the obvious.

"But we _feel_ like we do," I insisted.

Luke searched my face, calculating…something. "Your dream? Twins, married…mine?"

I smiled, remembering. "Right, not dream tramp," I said staunchly, pointing proudly at myself.

" _Mine_ ," he said, giving the word a completely different inflection. He reached for me.

As much as I wanted to see what was on the other side of that word, I was also terrified. I put my hands against his chest, stopping him. "Luke, if we do this, we can't go back!"

"Dear God, I hope not," he said fervently.

My feeble resistance crumbled, and he kissed me. If I hadn't already known that Luke was solid and steady, thorough and kind, with a mile-wide streak of undercover sexy, I would have known it after that kiss. It was an _amazing_ kiss.

He pulled away, but his hands continued to caress my shoulders as he watched somewhat anxiously for my reaction.

I caught my breath. "I don't wanna go back either," I immediately decided, and this time I was the one who reached for him.

The second kiss was doubly amazing, but somewhere in the middle of it, my brain managed to circumvent the sexy stuff and shot off a warning flare of alarm.

I scrambled to push him away. "Luke, I'm leaving tomorrow!"

"I know," he agreed, unperturbed.

"We can't – we can't figure this out that fast!" I wailed.

He shrugged, annoyingly calm. "I've already got it figured out."

I was in full-panic mode. "Look, just do your summer plans, OK? Once I get back, we'll deal with…this." I waved my hands between us. "I don't want you to sit around all summer, waiting for me."

"Too late," he said lazily. "Nicole and I are already broken up."

"When?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"The second I kissed you."

"Luke," I said, shaking my head.

He reached for my hand, and that's when I found out that I'd always underestimated hand-holding. "Don't worry, I'll go see her tomorrow, and let her know we're done. It's better to end it now, instead of after that ridiculous trip."

"But Luke –"

"I don't mind waiting, Lorelai. I _have_ been waiting, for a long time."

"Waiting…for me?" I asked hesitantly. I was still having a terrible time getting air to fill my lungs.

He nodded, beginning to smile. "Waiting for you to notice that I was a guy."

"Well, I _had_ heard the rumors." I moved my hands up his arms and appreciatively squeezed his biceps. "Turns out they were true."

He chuckled, low and throaty, and his smile widened. God, he was sexy. How had I managed to turn a blind eye to that for so many years? I answered that immediately: I hadn't. I was just really good at lying to myself.

"Maybe we should make sure, though?" I suggested.

"I do want you to be sure," he dryly agreed.

I was in his lap by the end of that kiss, cradled in his arms as he bent over me. He was gently, respectfully exploring, and his gentlemanly restraint was making me a little crazy. My hands were clutched in his hair. I do admit that I'd always sort of wondered about the hair, always hidden under the hat.

A sudden realization burst through the haze of desire. There would be no grace period with Luke. He already knew my issues and shortcomings – some probably better than I did. This was going to be unlike any other relationship I'd ever had. Anxiety sent me scrambling out of his embrace.

"I have baggage," I told him frantically. "And I don't mean the stuff spread all over my bed."

"Yeah, I know. You're not alone in that."

"I know you know, but I want to make sure you _know._ Rory alone is probably like a whole steamer trunk full."

"Rory's not baggage," Luke disagreed.

"That's probably somewhat true, she _has_ been a mini-adult since she was 10, and undoubtedly is more of an adult than I am most days, but Luke, she's still my baby. Even though she's heading off to college, I won't stop being her mom. She's always going to be my number one responsibility."

"Lorelai, seriously, do you think I'd ever get in the way of your relationship with Rory? Do you think I'd ever begrudge anything she needs from you?"

I thought about mashed potatoes and coffee cake and balloons, and the hundreds of ways Luke had always let Rory know that she was special to him. My panic briefly subsided.

"Then there are my parents," I grimly informed him.

He shrugged, not overly concerned.

"Luke, once they get wind that there's something between us, they'll make your life hell. And it won't have anything to do with you, really – it will just be another way for them to belittle me."

He raised one eyebrow. "Because I'm not good enough for you?"

"Because…" I struggled over how to explain it. "This will be another way I've deviated from their grand plan for me. They'll see it as just another screw-up. They've always wanted a daughter who'd embrace their life and values – you know, a college education, white-collar job, a husband with a country club membership."

"Like the guy who got you pregnant at 15?" he sneered.

I looked at him steadily. "Yes."

He began to look more agitated.

"Trust me, they weren't all that thrilled with Max, either, who was a well-regarded teacher at a prestigious prep school. They would have been horrified with Alex."

"Alex?" he asked, the question a challenge.

"The fishing guy," I admitted. "He wasn't around long enough to meet anybody."

He stewed about it for a minute or two, but then raised his hands. "I'm tough. I'll deal with it," he announced with an acceptance I suspected would turn out to be temporary.

" _We'll_ deal with it," I amended his statement.

"Then I'm good," he confirmed.

I sighed. "Speaking of Christopher…" I trailed off as Luke's face began to glower again.

"Him, I might have a problem with," he growled.

"I can't do anything about him, Luke. As long as Rory's in my life, he's in my life. He's her dad, and I can't change that."

He stared at me for a few moments. "Yeah, I understand that, but I don't have to like it."

"I agree, you don't have to like it. As long as you don't actually beat him into a pulp I think we can work around it."

"We probably can." He leaned forward and grasped my hand. "Maybe we can figure out some alternative ways to deal with it."

"I like alternatives," I said, grinning at him.

He sat back. "Anything else? You seem to be on a roll here."

"Yeah, a biggie. The Dragonfly."

"That's not a problem. I'm behind you on that a thousand percent."

"It's going to take up my whole life as soon as I get back here. It's going to drain away my time, my money, my energy. I'm not sure there's going to be much left over for the poor guy in my life."

"As long as the guy is in your life, he's going to be happy."

"You say that now."

"I'll say it then, too. I know how much the dream of having your own place means to you. I know how long it's been a goal. Whatever I can do to help make it a reality, count me in."

"Geez, Luke." Although I was attempting to laugh, I had to blink a couple of tears out of my eyes. I was also trying to pretend I wasn't deeply affected by his promise. "That might be the sweetest thing anybody's ever said to me."

"I mean it, too."

While looking at him, and thinking about what an amazing guy he truly was, my perpetual cold feet caused _Panic Attack Part Deux_ to hit. I sprang to my feet and stood before him, wringing my hands. "Luke, I'm leaving _in the morning_! I'm going to be gone _all summer_!"

Looking resigned, he got to his feet too. "Didn't we already do this part?"

"This is not fair." I turned around and began to pace in the small area between Luke and my bed. "It's not fair to you. I'm going to be gone, gallivanting overseas, and you're stuck here all summer by yourself. We should wait and start…this –" I flung my hands wildly at him, trying to encompass what all that meant – "after I get back. Shouldn't we?"

"Why?" he said coolly, his arms crossed over his chest. "You planning on sleeping your way across Europe?"

Ooh, direct hit. I glared at him. "Yes, right, that's my plan exactly. I'm going to shag every guy between here and Rome, while my daughter looks on. Might as well give her something to write the grandparents about."

"Lorelai." He walked to where I was standing and put his hands on my shoulders. "I'm fine. I'm going to be fine. I'll be fine all summer. In fact, I'll be a lot better now than what I would have been, had we not had this talk."

"But –"

"Nope, no buts. I want you to have a good time with Rory. Enjoy the trip. Celebrate with her. And when you get back…" He paused long enough to kiss me on the forehead. "I'll be right here, waiting for you. OK?"

I felt the tension evaporate from my shoulders. " _Right_ here?" I wanted to know, wrapping my arms around him.

He chuckled. "Well, probably in the diner, but if I know you, you'll stop there first anyway."

"Mmm, maybe."

He kissed my cheek and tenderly touched my hair. "Are you all right now?"

I tried to look serious. "I'm not sure. There's just so much to consider," I said virtuously, closing the small gap between us.

"Anything I can do to help you with those considerations?" he asked gruffly.

"A kiss might help," I whispered.

"Always happy to oblige," he murmured.

It was our first kiss standing up, and the full-body contact was swoon-worthy. The one kiss turned into three, or four, or maybe a couple of dozen. I readily admit I lost track. The one thing I do remember is trying to picture the piles of stuff on my bed, and calculating how quickly I could clear it all off.

Somewhere around kiss number 48, we were interrupted by a knock on my bedroom door.

"Mom? Is everything OK up here?"

Now normally I would have dropped anything to take care of my kid, but not tonight. I put my hand alongside of Luke's jaw and enjoyed kissing his perfect lips one more time before I answered her.

"Yeah, Rory, we're fine." I smiled at Luke.

"OK, great. I just wanted to make sure, because people are asking –" She stopped talking abruptly, and I had my first inkling that the jig was up. "Wait, did you say ' _we're?_ '" she demanded.

 _Damn._ I rested my forehead against Luke's shoulder for a moment, cursing my kiss-addled brain. But then I did the sensible thing, which was to quickly kiss him another two or three or five times. I pulled away reluctantly, fluffed my hair, and made sure my clothing was straight. I smiled apologetically at him before going over to the door.

"Rory!" I said brightly, flinging it open.

She gave me the once-over before peering distrustfully into the room.

Luke was now sitting on the small patch of cleared bed, sipping his beer. "Hey, Rory," he said amiably.

Her mouth dropped open and she turned again to me, her face filled with speculation.

"Luke wanted to talk about some things," I said casually.

"I did," Luke said, smoothly backing me up.

"O-kay," she said slowly. She gave her head a shake and I could tell she was going to table her questions – for now, at least. "Well, about a dozen people are looking for you downstairs. Is your 'talk' done? Can you come down and deal with them?"

"Yeah, I think we're good." I looked innocently over at Luke. "Right, Luke?"

"Yeah, we're good." He got up and collected my bottle from the top of the dresser, handing it to me as he went through the doorway. "Thanks, Lorelai."

"No problem!" I said cheerfully. I motioned for Rory to go down the steps after him.

"Talking, huh?" she muttered. "That's what the kids are calling it now?"

I ignored her sarcasm and threw myself back into the spirit of the party.

* * *

I got a dance with Luke after all. I tried to slip Dave Rygalski ten dollars to play a slow song, but he looked at me, looked over at Luke, and did it for nothing. He's a good kid, Dave is.

This time when I looped my arms around Luke's neck he didn't back away. He smiled and held me and looked as happy as I'd ever seen him. If people didn't know things had changed between us, I think the dance clued them in.

He had to leave soon after that. The diner opens in the morning, new romance or not. I followed him outside, scooted him behind the big pine tree in the side yard, and enjoyed a proper goodbye kiss. Although I tried not to think about it actually being a goodbye kiss.

"Be safe," he whispered to me, hugging me hard. "Have fun making those memories, but look after Rory, too."

"What sort of tacky souvenir should I bring back for you?"

"Nothing. Except you."

"Hey, I'll have you know I am not tacky. Not much, anyway."

He chuckled and kissed me again. "Send me a postcard now and then, if you feel like it."

"I think there's a good chance I might feel like it." This time I was the one to kiss him, and I somehow managed to back away at the end of it. I pointed at him sternly. "Don't get engaged."

That handsome smile lit up his face. "I won't. Not until you get home."

The silence between us was deafening as we both absorbed what he'd said.

"Um…" He rubbed a hand across his face. "Can we pretend that sounded more like a joke than the way it came out?"

"Ha-ha," I said feebly.

"I didn't mean –"

"I know," I said quickly. I moved closer and gave him a swift kiss on his lips. "A warning, though: unlike some of your soon-to-be-ex-girlfriends, that _is_ a topic we'll discuss someday."

He did that almost bashful thing he does sometimes, where he looks down, hiding a mischievous smile. It shows off his insane eyelashes and makes him look adorable.

"Stop that," I said, "or we'll be standing here all night."

"Stop what?"

"Never mind." Not able to resist, I moved in for one last hug. "You'd better go."

He kissed my forehead. "I will miss you."

I swallowed hard. "Me too."

Luke began to back away. "Nah, you'll miss the coffee."

"Darn. You're on to me."

He put up his hand in a half-wave, leaving me. "Bye, Lorelai."

All of the emotions I could hear in his voice almost melted me down into one big puddle of goo. "Bye, Luke," I said softly.

Then I just stood there and watched the hot guy walk away.

 _Fate_ , I thought dreamily.

* * *

After that, the party died down pretty quickly, since everyone knew we had to leave at an ungodly hour the next morning. Sookie and Babette said they'd come over the next day and clean up the party debris for us, which was a kind and generous offer I readily accepted.

Rory and I threw leftovers into the fridge and made a pass-through to collect trash, but we let the rest go. Both of us still needed to finish packing. Well, I needed to finish. Rory had been packed for weeks, but she was still wavering over how many books she could stand to lug around Europe.

I promised her we'd talk about the events of the day during tomorrow's lengthy transatlantic flight. I gave her a long hug, and for the umpteenth time that day told her what an amazing kid she was, and how proud I was of her.

Upstairs in my room I briefly considered thoughtlessly shoving as much stuff as would fit into my backpack, but I knew when I ran out of jeans three days into the trip or didn't have enough socks or had nothing pretty enough to wear to a nice restaurant, I'd regret my hasty packing system. So instead I expanded the cleared section where Luke had been sitting, giving me more room in which to do the necessary folding and cramming.

That was when I found a blue thread on my bedspread. I realized it was from Luke's shirt, the one that had showed off his broad shoulders to such an advantage. I picked it up and wound it around my finger, smiling.

Impulsively, I pulled out my phone. I'd been meaning to get a cellphone charm and some sparkly beads to attach to the small opening in the top of the case, because if anyone was good at bejeweling and bedazzling inanimate objects, it was me. But now I was glad I hadn't gotten around to it yet.

I threaded the string through the opening and looped it around on itself before securely knotting it into place. Maybe it was goofy, but it made me happy to think that a tiny piece of Luke would be traveling across Europe with me.

One precious piece of string to guide my heart back home.


End file.
